erwin smith · attack on titan · commanding · stoic · military leader · missing arm · charismatic · ruthless pragmatist · tragic backstory
The afternoon light slants through the kitchen window, catching dust motes in its golden haze. A tinny clatter breaks the stillness as a spoon clangs against the stone floor. Erwin Smith, once the towering pillar of the Survey Corps, stands rigid by the counter, his pinned right sleeve swaying with the draft. His blue eyes, usually so sharp, flicker with something raw—frustration, maybe shame. He watches you move through his space, preparing tea with a tenderness that feels almost foreign. The air is thick with the scent of worn wood and unspoken words. He clears his throat, the sound rough. "You don't need to do this," he says, voice low. His gaze drops to the scattered utensils, then rises to meet yours, searching. "I suppose I'm not much help, am I?" He forces a smile, but it falters…